


Paint over every one of my mistakes

by monanotlisa



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: D/s, De-aging, Established Relationship, Kink, M/M, sga-kinkmeme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-25
Updated: 2010-10-25
Packaged: 2017-10-12 21:27:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/129263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monanotlisa/pseuds/monanotlisa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>And, pardon the cliché, but what a body it is: softer and sweeter, long limbs that don't quite know how strong they'll be one day.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Paint over every one of my mistakes

"This is so, so wrong I can't even begin to tell you how wrong it is, and did I mention the wrong part yet?"

"Dunno, Rodney; why don't you remind me?" John's slouching on his bed, grin as slow and smirky as ever, but there's something else to it - everything else, in fact: hope and wanting and maybe not a hundred but certainly a good dozen naked emotions on his face. It's a scientifically baseless thought, of course, but perhaps this body of John's hasn't mastered the art of hiding them yet.

And, pardon the cliché, but what a body it is: softer and sweeter, long limbs that don't quite know how strong they'll be one day. John at age, what, sixteen? shouldn't be quite this appealing to Rodney because he fell in love with a man: what's he doing lusting after a boy?

"Rodney," John whines, and oh, this time around it really is a whine, high and uneven, not the low rumble he tries to disguise it with. "Less thinking, more fucking?" Filthy words spilling out of those perfect, pouty lips.

"Shut up," he says without doing what John's just criticized, "or I'll shut you up."

That gets him...not quite an arched eyebrow, but it's close enough for top-secret, overconfidential government work, and Rodney decides to hell with it. John's always insolent, but here it feels as if he's only trying it out for the first time. Rodney's at John's side in an instant, clamping a hand around John's narrow shoulder. Bones are shifting under his fingers, muscles only just developing. "Lose the shirt."

John only tilts his head just so, displaying the long-lean side of his neck. He peers up at Rodney from under half-closed eyes. Jesus fuck; were John's eyelashes always dark like this, fanning out down over his cheeks? It's the cheeks, Rodney decides: still round with baby-fat, gentle. Pliant. It's sending thrills down Rodney's spine, making him want to hold John down and fuck him, hard (then harder still).

"Lose the shirt now, John." He adds a warning push to John's shoulder, and it's gratifying to see that John's grappling with gravity for a split second. He can't balance it out - couldn't withstand Rodney's strength like this. Not even if he tried.

John knows, realizes. He bites his lips and ducks down, gripping the edge of his shirt, pulling it up with jerky movements, displaying more and more of this skinny boy-body, pale but now blushing. John's nipples are stiff, are inverse arrow signs – lick here, bite here – and one of the few truly familiar markers on this much younger John who's been built up by the machine from DNA all a-new. New indeed, unmarked.

Rodney plans to change that last part.

While John is still grappling with it, Rodney reaches out and tugs, not gently, pulling the black fabric over John's head and away. Naked from the waist up, wearing nothing but too-loose Air Force slacks barely held up by the military-issue belt, he's gone all poster boy for the twink section of a military porn site. Rodney finds he doesn't mind one bit. There's a growing trail of dark hair leading south from John's navel, and Rodney shoves John down onto the bed - which gets him a hasty exhalation.

"You wore this on purpose."

"To not be naked? Yeah, funny how people tend to go for that option in public."

But John didn't run around Atlantis in this, probably did barely more than walk from his to Rodney's quarters: he's freshly showered. Rodney can smell the vaguest hint of soap on him. Also the first whiff of sweat, of which there needs to more. Much more.

Rodney's knees hit the edge of the bed, and he catches John's eyes, wide and expectant. Follows the dark trail of hair on John's stomach with his index finger. John shivers, still, and oh yeah, he's biting his lip again. Rodney doesn't need to touch John's cock to know it's hard, has been hard the whole damn time. It's plainly visible through the pants, and Rodney treats himself to a light stroke that nevertheless makes John moan, choked-off, and buck into his hand. Teenager, Rodney thinks, and smiles at John.

It's probably not a particularly nice smile, but John's wide-eyed look shows him it works, and that John understands.

Rodney grips John harder, through the cloth, rubbing up. Down. Up and down, and John whines again, shoves back harder. It only takes four strokes before John's whole body shudders and shakes, and the front of his functional slacks darkens wetly at the crotch. "Rodney," he breathes, and the sheer sense of gratitude is blowing Rodney's mind.

Speaking of.

Off," Rodney says, and decides he doesn't need to wait. The belt gives up easily, John's pants follow swiftly, and-- "Someone Someone hasn't been wearing any underwear, I see."

John flashes him a grin at that. "Why?" he manages to get out, still breathing hard, "when you'd have to take it off so soon anyway?"

Good thinking, although Rodney knows better than to tell John. Instead, he discards the rest of those pants; thankfully, John had gotten rid of the boots before he sat down. Rodney has time and space to look at this body, so familiar but still so strange.

He touches John's spent cock, slides thumb and forefinger down from base to head curiously: a foreskin. Of course. "Try as it might, your nation obviously hasn't managed to genetically code this particular 'cleanliness' into your genetic mark-up yet."

John snorts, which unsurprisingly comes across as smart-ass. He doesn't let himself be baited, usually, and this seems to be no exception because he simply pushes himself up on his elbows and also stares at his cock. "It's kinda fun to play with. Thought it was just being young again, but -"

"I am, as you're well aware, always up for some fun," Rodney says with a face as straight as he can keep it (which is: not much), and bends down to lick John's cock experimentally. It doesn't react, but John does: a drawn-out breath, a small moan.

Rodney can be patient. He lets his tongue paint patterns on John's balls and cock, uses his fingers to pull back its hood and lick circles, all to the soundtrack of John's voice, until John's filling and hardening again, just about as fast as Rodney has estimated too.

What Rodney hadn't quite taken into account, though, was the fact that he really wants to fuck John right the hell now. He'll suck him off another time - afterwards, maybe; it's not as if John can't go three rounds like this.

Rodney wants his one shot. "Turn around."

"What?"

"You heard me."

John has, so he does (although he rolls his eyes while he's at it). John rolls his eyes but obeys. Goes up on his knees too, legs slightly spread: accommodating in ways he never is outside the bedroom.

Time to stare, if only for a moment. John's ass hasn't changed much, of course, but it too looks softer. When Rodney runs a hand over one cheek, then the other, there's a slight tremble. Thankfully, they've stored their lube in convenient locations, meaning: there are five little tubes all over Atlantis, only three of which are in their respective bedrooms.

When Rodney touches his slick finger to John's hole, John doesn't push back. That's different, and Rodney stills for a moment, decides upon circling the rim slowly, once. Twice. At the head of the bed, John is exhaling, slowly.

Rodney pushes inside, and to add to the list of kinks for tonight, John's really tight? Tighter even than the first time Rodney fucked him - after a long dry spell, John had confessed, at some point much later because he's John and therefore an idiot. John would never tell him to stop. They have a safeword, but John's never used it.

But stretch him he will. Rodney lets his fingers do the talking. "I know you want this, John, and you know what else I know?"

John shakes his head. The hair at his temples, the nape of his neck is glossy-black with sweat, and he's moving restlessly: back onto Rodney's fingers.

"It's fucking hard, no pun intended, for you to have your body betray you like this when you're so used to being in charge of it." John ducks his head and doesn't say anything. Doesn't have to.

Rodney twists his fingers little, adds a second one. John's breath hitches, but when Rodney lets his other hand wander down, his erection's still there, his cock slick and slicker.

Time to help himself. Rodney flicks open his button fly and, Jesus, he should have done this a while ago. One brief stroke, but he has to grit his teeth and hope to God John can take his third finger pretty damn soon.

He can, turns out, and the way he's breathing now doesn't say trepidation as much as anticipation. John's so - slight like this, now craning his head and trying to catch a glimpse of Rodney to gauge what the hell is taking him so long. Young and full of a need his body language's practically screaming out. He looks, impossibly possible, like the teenager he isn't: what John must have looked like a long time ago when he wanted what he wanted but could never really quite get in the world he lived in. In neither world he ever lived in.

Rodney takes hold of John's hips and enters him. He does it slow, but steady, and still John's moan is not entirely one of pleasure. His ass is clamping down on Rodney's cock, and even for him, it's almost a little too intense.

Almost.

"Relax, John." Rodney strokes his right hand down John's long, lean flank, rubs it against the grain of his damp dark hair. "Just take it. You're good at that." John's body jerks at that, and the sound he makes is almost a little strangled. "That's right. Just like that." And now John is moving with him, moving back - just a little, a tiny bit, but it's enough, and Rodney lets out all the air he's been holding in and drops his head to John's spine: drops a kiss in its perfect center, and lets his hips slam into John until John's low moans have turned high and high-pitched and until he's come all over Rodney's hand stroking him, stroking him a little twist to that foreskin of his.

After Rodney has come, after Rodney has pulled out and pulled John close, he turns to nuzzle John's pointy, pointy left ear: "You're the best."

And is quite happy to hear John's sleepy, "I know," because, as they both know, that kind of impertinence warrants some stern follow-up.

**Author's Note:**

> For the sga-kinkmeme to the following prompt:
> 
>  _Rodney/John, de-aging, submission_
> 
> Rodney and John are already in a kinky relationship with John on the bottom when John is temporarily turned into a teenager. Rodney takes full advantage of the situation and happy fun sexytiems ensue.


End file.
